


best mistake

by minhoscallousedhands



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Smut, a little bit of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhoscallousedhands/pseuds/minhoscallousedhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>newt thinks minho's his soulmate, so he told him he likes him to find out for sure. that's the way it works: you tell a person how you feel, and wait til after one night to see if they get a grey hair on their hairline the next day. if they do, they're your soulmate, and you'll age normally. if not, you'll be stuck at the age of 18--only your mind grows older. will minho and newt age past 18?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. there's no pot of gold in the rainbows we chase

 

_“cause if the water dries up_   
_and the moon stops shining_   
_stars fall and the world goes blind_   
_you know i’ll be saving my love for you”_

_(best mistake - ariana grande)_

 

**v | meet the newtons, edisons**

The Edisons and the Newtons were family friends since the Newtons moved in to the house next to the Edisons. Both were in their mid-30s with two kids, likes to have barbecue on their backyard and have a swing in front of their houses for their children. It all started when little Minho threw a fit for not getting his turn on his swing since his little brother wouldn’t step off it.

“Umma! T won’t give me my turn!” the boy yelled and kicked the pole of the swing, making a repetitive thump that annoyed the siblings who was playing with their own swing next door.

“Stay here, T.” the blonde half of the Newton siblings stopped swinging his sister and walked over to the other swing. The brat was still kicking the pole while his little brother had started crying, none was aware of the little blonde boy coming their way.

“Don’t be mean to your brother.” the small neighbor stood behind Minho, tapping his shoulder lightly. His tongue confused the ‘R’s with ‘W’s, sounding way less threatening than he had intended to. “You can use my swing, my sis and I are going in the house.”

“Who are you?” Minho rested his leg, turning to face the audacious blonde. “You can’t say your ‘R’s. And you sound weird.” he sneered, too snarky for his age.

“Name’s Newt. I’m from England.” he stuck out his tiny pale hand–especially in comparison to the tan neighbor–, decidedly ignoring the other boy’s rudeness. _Wow, his eyes are so small! Like a crescent moon or something,_ Newt thought.

The tan kid didn’t welcome his hand and point it towards the blonde’s direction instead and mockingly said, “Wow, your name sucks.”

A shade of deep red washed over the pale boy’s face and his eyes welled up some tears. He likes his nickname and no one had ever said anything horrible about that. “You’re mean.”

“Are you crying? HAHAHA you’re weak!”

“Am not!” the boy yelled an obvious sob, then ran back to his house.

His sister followed him, glaring at Minho all the while. “You made my brother cry!” she shouted as her short, chubby, 4-year-old legs swung as fast as she could make them towards her house door, where Newt had left slightly open after he bolted in. Little did Minho know that his brother had left the swing and ran for their parents in their house. When all the mess was already made, Thomas walked out of the house with their parents, their mother looking the angriest.

“Minho! What did you do to our neighbor’s kids?” she scolded him, and this kid–Jesus Christ–he was still on his swing, finally enjoying his turn without a single look of fright in his face.

“Umma, I didn’t do anything.” His little legs swinging and kicking his body up, getting himself higher by every swing, head bobbing to some imaginary music in his head. “They just crybabies.”

“Apologize, Minho.” his stepfather spoke this time, stopping his swing and easily carry him in his arms. Minho was screaming and kicking, yelling “Stan! You’re not my Appa! I don’t want to apologize!” over and over, but the man was calm enough to keep him in his arms all the way over to the Newton’s door. “I’m gonna ring the bell, Minho. Your Appa or not, I have to discipline you like I do to Thomas.” the man sternly said, pushing the button with a small musical note stamped over it. They didn’t have to wait for more than a minute to see the welcoming face of Mrs. Newton.

“Hello? Mr. Edison?” she politely asked, obviously confused since the neighbor had never actually came over before.

“Please, call me Stan.”

“Stan, yes. I’m Sara. Would you like to come in? How may I help you?”

“No, it’s fine here. My boy here–Minho, say hi to Mrs. Newton–wants to apologize to your son, I believe.”

Minho buried his face in his stepdad’s shoulder, his arms tightly clung to him, not wanting to face the other way where Newt’s mom was. He let out a muffled cry, kicking his legs weakly, begging to go home.

“Mum, can I have some cheese please?” Newt’s bed of blonde fluffy hair appeared from behind the gaping door, looking up at his mother with nose still red from crying earlier.

“There you are! Minho is looking for you, love.” She smiled and nodded at Stan.

Stan lowered himself to a squat, forcing Minho to sit on his lap. “Minho, come on, now. I can stay here all day until you say sorry.” Minho pulled himself away from him unwillingly and looked at the pale kid that had stopped crying. Newt laughed at his swollen eyes and tear-streaked chubby cheeks. _He looks funny when he cries!_

“Look who’s crying now?” Newt chuckled. Minho felt as embarrassed as a 5 year old kid can be, biting down his lip as he stuck out his hand to shake Newt’s. “Do you wanna go play?”

Minho knitted his brows, looking at his dad for approval. He didn’t know why he wanted to play with Newt, or why Newt was so nice to him after what happened. But he really wanted to play, instead of going home to Stan’s lecture or Thomas trying to take all his toys away from him. His dad nodded, and Minho murmured, “Okay.”, letting Newt take his hand and lead him to his swing.

Minho and Newt became inseparable since then.

 

 

**xv | the truth about soulmates**

“YOU SUCK, NEWTON!”

“NO, YOU SUCK, PARK!”

The two boys were tucked away from Thomas’ and Teresa’s birthday party upstairs in Newt’s room, playing Mario Kart. As far as the game goes, Minho was losing, but of course he still had it in him to trash talk Newt. They had been playing for three hours straight after dinner, and their eyes are burning from starring at the screen. They wrapped up the last game and then sprawled themselves on the fluffy carpet in Newt’s room.

“That was a good game.” Newt chuckled.

“Cause you won. Shut it.” Minho snapped and his neighbor followed with a laugh. They were quiet for almost a minute, a little sleepy from all the food and games.

“Dude, I’ve been wondering.” the pale boy broke the silence.

“What.”

“Do you think Thomas and Teresa like each other?” he asked, rolling to his side to face his friend.

“Hah, I don’t think it, I know it. T is jumpy but, even more so around your sister.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Why do you think of that all of a sudden? We don’t usually talk about things like these.” the tan boy rolled to his side, his face scrunched in suspicion.

“I’m opening a new can of worms.”

“Gross. What does that even mean?”

Newt rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I forgot you’re pretty much illiterate. It means, I’m talking about an unsolved problem. A dilemma if you will.”

“Okay, Mr. Poet, whatever. What’s your dilemma?”

“I know who I like.”

“Yeah? How is that a problem?”

“It’s a boy.”

“Still don’t get the problem.”

“Well, yeah. It’s you.”

“You? You mean me?”

“I’m regretting this already.”

The two best friends froze, eyes starring deep into the other’s. Minho’s eyes were the widest Newt had ever seen and his face was in a deep shade of red. Newt himself was biting his lower lip out of nervousness, close to breaking the thin skin, heart pounding faster in every passing second. _No, no, no. Why is Minho so quiet and looked so shocked? This is a terrible idea._

“What do you mean you like me? We’re best friends, Newt! Of course I like you!” the look of shock was still in his face and he was desperately laughing it off. He knew what Newt meant. He needed to be sure.

“Minho, I like you, _like_ _you_. Okay?”

“But I don’t even know who I like, Newt.” his voice started to sound serious.

“…”

“I’ve never even liked a girl before!”

“Well, have you ever liked a boy?”

“I.. Uh, I don’t know, I’ve never thought of it? All I care about is becoming lacrosse captain and kicking your ass at Mario Kart!”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. I’m sorry, I can’t say it back just yet–I’m not even sure if I like boys. Or girls. I don’t know?”

“It’s okay.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I’m sleeping over and I wanna be the first one to know if you have grey hair tomorrow morning. You know, find out if you’re my soulmate.”

Minho couldn’t find any words to say to his best friend, who apparently had feelings for him. So he kept quiet. They were both still lying face to face on the carpet, frozen, taking in the sight of familiar face that didn’t seem so familiar anymore. The air was thick, awkward, uncomfortable, and Minho just wanted to put an end to it. Plus, Newt seemed a little sad and he wanted to do something about it.

“Let’s just.. Try something.” Minho broke the silence. “Give me your hands.”

Newt didn’t respond in words, he just did what Minho told him to do.

“I’m-I’m not very good at this. But I want to at least try.” Minho held Newt’s hand. “Maybe I like you too.”

“Maybe we’re soulmates.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

With that, the boys started slipping into stupor with their fingers still intertwined. Despite sleeping on a carpet, it was one of the best sleeps that both of them have ever had. Dark, dreamless, pleasant and fast. Fast enough to confuse them in the morning, thinking they only had fallen asleep for one or two hours. Soon the boys realized that they had slept through the night as sunlight came rushing in through the blinds. Minho fluttered his lids open, then bolted up to the mirror hanging on the bedroom door, while Newt was still tossing and turning on the carpet.

“It’s 10 am, holy shit. We’ve slept for 9 hours.” Newt mumbled in his raspy morning voice.

“Yeah. Okay. How long does it usually take for the grey hair to appear?” Minho rummaged his fingers through his hair, looking for a strand of grey hair in his reflection.

“One night after one of them confessed their feelings to the other.”

“Newt, it’s been one night.” Minho turned around to see Newt, who was sitting by his bed. “I don’t have grey hair. It’s been one night and I don’t have grey hair. We’re not soulmates.” he rambled nervously, his voice shaking.

Minho’s reaction puzzled Newt. _Shouldn’t I be the one freaking out about this?_ He seemed a lot more disappointed than he should have. He went back to the mirror, continuing his desperate search for the grey hair.

“But some researches I read stated that it can take up to 12 hours. We still have three.”

“Up to? What’s the average?”

“Seven hours. For like, 95% of their respondents.”

“Oh God. It’s not there. It’s supposed to be on my hairline. It’s not there, Newt.”

“We still have 3 hours, Minho.”

“What did you do to me, Newt?” Minho suddenly raised his voice.

“What..”

“Why does it hurt?” This time, Minho’s voice was shaking. _Is he crying?_ “Why does _this_ hurt?”

“What hurts?” Newt walked over to the mirror, gently reaching over to Minho’s shoulder. “What’s up with you?”

Minho turned around, revealing his puffy eyes and tear streaked cheeks. “Do you even remember the last time you see me crying?” he snarled.

“When we first met. We were five.” Newt tried to remain calm, biting back a small smile from images of 5-year-old Minho crying in his dad’s arms playing in his head. “Minho, please stop yelling.” He rubbed Minho’s shoulders, hoping for that to calm him down too.

“I don’t-I don’t know why this hurts. Why knowing that you’re not my soulmate hurts. And why it doesn’t seem to bother you at all. I thought you said you like me. Are you trying to mess with my head?” It didn’t work.

“No, God, No.” _Of course it hurts, you idiot_. “But we still have three hours. Let’s just sit down and not cry? Yeah?”

“Sit down? No, I wanna freaking hug you. God, I’m freaking out. Why am I freaking out?”

“Alright. Shh.” Newt took another step towards his best friend, slipping his hand around his waist, rubbing circles over his back. “I’m sorry. I’m here.” He enveloped the shorter boy in a hug, letting his tears wet his t-shirt. He didn’t get why all of a sudden this made Minho so emotional, but he didn’t realize that he had tapped into his repressed feelings. Minho never talked about his feelings. So when it surfaces, it rushes to all directions, expanding his insides like a bomb that’s ready to blow. And it’s only logical that the only person who had seen him cry, other than his parents; the one whom he grow up with; the one best friend he has; was the one who could trigger it easily.

“I-I think not being your soulmate is going to suck. So bad. I don’t want that.”

_All it was supposed to take was one night, you idiot._

“I can still be your soulmate. Three hours. Shh.”

Newt lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please send me ideas on this on my tumblr: fuckboytommy, bc i've run out of ideas to make part 2.


	2. i'd been resisting this decay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's not easy to please everyone. especially for newt. and he thought he only knew one way how.

 

 

 _"a broken house_  
_another dry month waiting for the rain_  
_and i had been resisting this decay_  
_i thought you'd do the same"_

_(ditmas - mumford and sons)_

 

 

**xxv | careful hands**

“Tommy, you better have a good reason for calling me at 2 pm.” Newt hissed at the 6th call Thomas made, careful not to wake his patient up.

“I wouldn’t waste your time if I don’t have one. I’m at the 1st floor of the South Wing.”

Thomas barely ever called Newt, especially not in the middle of his afternoon shift in the ward. That being said, he was prepared for something far worse, but it wasn’t even close to what he thought. His hurried steps slowed down as soon as the location registered in his head: OB/GYN clinic. _Oh._

It wasn’t long until he arrived at the clinic, where Thomas was waiting for him outside. He was welcomed with a wide grin on his sister’s face as soon as her doctor allowed him in the exam room.

“You’re gonna be an uncle!” Teresa squealed, legs still up on the gyno chair.

 _What a perfect timing_ , he thought, and that was not sarcasm. “Gee, T, could’ve just told me over text. I don’t need to see your lady parts.” he flinched.

Her beam persisted. “Please, you’re graduating next year. Come on and hug your sister.”

“Congrats, love.” 

All he hoped for that moment was for his smile to reach his eyes. His burning, almost-tearing eyes. “Aw, don’t cry uncle Isaac.” Teresa cooed, while Thomas just pat his back.

“I’m not crying, you’re crying.” It was a weak attempt at a joke, but clearly, his sister and her fiancé were too caught up in joy, so there was no way that she was--even happy tears. “Congrats, Tommy.”

“It’s nice that you’re an intern here, you can be here any minute I want.” she continued.

“Not any minute, T. Not any minute.” he shook his head. “Dr. Evans here wouldn’t let me.” He gestured towards her OB/GYN, who was also Newt’s teacher in med school.

“Don’t worry, Teresa, you won’t need him, trust me.” Evans snickered.

Everyone laughed, except Newt. He let out a fake chuckle and excused himself to go back to work with a very convincing hug and a cheerful ‘See you later!’, not at all acting on the pang of hurt on his chest.

_Minho can’t hear this._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The dull beige four wall lit under yellow lightbulbs seemed too much like a bore to Newt. It was only his third appointment in the month, and he wanted to quit already.

“I can’t now.” he shifted on the couch every now and then, uneasy as he always had been in there, eyes avoiding the only company he had in the room. “With him, I wanna quit.”

“Thought you were gonna cancel our future appointments here.”

“That too. I’m quitting life, dr. Cooper.”

Newt looked up to see his psychiatrist, a lady in her late forties; her glasses had slid down her nose and her eyes were still trained at him. Dr. Mary Cooper was glaring, more precisely, lips pursing back the string of pre-formulated words she would say out of habit to stop a patient from attempting suicide.

He’s not one of those patients, though. She knew it was going to be different with him. Not because he’s a student, but there was no point telling him that he has a life ahead of him and people who loves him.

Because the one that matters to him wasn’t, isn’t, and will never be meant for him. Ever.

Which was why he didn’t look like he was remotely in his mid-20′s. With his doe eyes and slim frame and small jaw, not even close to 18. He’s lived for 25 years by then, but not a single person would have had guessed it. Anyone could easily think of it as a blessing, but for him, it’s the reason why he hates mirrors, and more importantly: himself.

“Why would you do that?” she carefully asked.

He might have a death wish, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t care about people he was about to leave behind. “Because I want him to be happy.” he exhaled.

“I don’t understand.” even if he answered that question, she doubted she ever will.

“My sister just got pregnant.” he paused for a beat. “Just heard the news earlier today.”

“And that makes you feel..”

“Like a failure. Somehow. Do you know that he wants to have kids with me?”

Both of them had no idea that the notion of having children would hurt someone this much. They both thought the system was there to establish order, not chaos. They thought that, whatever or whoever’s up there who created this stupid soulmate rules would save everyone from the pain of having pointless relationships and finding ‘the one’.

Clearly this wasn’t well thought out.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have told him how I feel.”

“Would you have moved on if you didn’t?”

“I was fifteen. We were fifteen. He didn’t even knew if he was gay back then.” his voice cracked into a weak cry. “It’s all my fault. I made him think that he liked me too.”

Mary took a quick note, then pass a box of tissue to Newt. “Let it all out.”

He glanced at her, wondered for a split second if he should, but the tears in his eyes betrayed him. “I stick to rules religiously, at everything. Everything but this.”

As more tears spill down his eyes, more words also came out of his mouth. He tried his best to keep a steady breathing, a controlled voice, although sadness hit him like tidal waves. He’d been imploding slowly for so long, quietly, hoarding pain without ever venting to anybody.

“I want to give up.. Because I can’t make him happy. I can’t see him looking at Thomas and Teresa having a baby and getting married. It’s gonna remind him that we can’t.”

“Well, what are you gonna do now, Newt?”

“Quit.” he didn’t need to see her disapproving look. He knew what it meant. Patients with suicidal thoughts must be hospitalized to be watched around the clock. To make sure they don’t kill themselves. And what should he tell Minho? He can’t fake an illness, the ripple effect was too much for him to fabricate. He can’t lie that much.

“I know you know what it meant, and I really, really don’t want to admit you, Newt.” she sighed. “So I will sit here with you and help you figure this out without a plan that involves ending your life.”

“I just want him to be happy, dr. Cooper.”

“Is he not happy just being with you? Didn’t you just get a new apartment together?”

The smile on Minho’s face when he turned the key to their apartment for the first time was still vivid in his head.

“I guess..”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Newt’s gut made an unpleasant twist before he entered his apartment. He couldn’t decide which was worse, coming home to Minho and face reality, or stay in the hospital and run away from his problems.

Figured home would be a better option after promising Mary he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Hey.” Minho and his soothing voice cradled his ear. “Long day at work?”

“Yeah, had to cover for someone for a few hours in the ER.”

Minho was about to pull him into a hug, but he grimaced. “Don’t touch my scrubs. Germs. How was the mock trial?”

“Sucks.”

“What, you lost?”

“Not a chance. Gally’s an amateur. Surprised he’s even hired in this firm.”

“Then?”

“Dude used the soulmate card to insult me. Tellin’ everybody I look young cause I’m physically eighteen. Can’t take one small loss in a _mock_ trial.”

It was a lot easier for Minho to hide the fact that he was physically stuck in his late teens. He’s an avid gym member, about twice as buff as Newt, strikingly handsome in well thought out outfits--throw on a smart casual and no one would bat an eye if he claims to be twenty-something. Newt had it worse, being a medical student and all, but he was beating himself up more when it happens to Minho. Keeps telling himself it’s his fault and Minho doesn’t deserve any of that. 

“Did you hear? Teresa?” Minho changed the subject and it made Newt feel like he’s taking one blow after another.

“Yeah, Thomas called me. I was there during the ultrasound this afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Figured your brother would’ve beaten me to it.”

“No, he told me like, just an hour before you got home.” Minho paused, sensing something off with Newt. “Is there anything wrong?” he scanned his boyfriend’s face for clues.

“No, I’m just- I’m tired. That’s all. I’m- I need to shower.” he walked over to their bathroom, but his boyfriend stopped him.

“I’m okay, Newt. I don’t want kids.”

“What are you talking about..”

“Newt, we don’t have to have kids to be happy.” the voice was still deep, soft and soothing. “I don’t want kids, I have you.”

“People don’t go from wanting kids to just.. Not want them.”

Minho turned Newt around to face him, not caring if he’s touched his germ-ridden scrubs. “Hey, I know, from the very beginning that- that- we won’t legally be domestic partners. Or able to get married. Or eligible to adopt or get a surrogate mother.” he cleared his throat. “All because of that stupid rule.”

“Don’t, Minho. Don’t do this for me-”

“I’ve been here with you for 10 years. Why? Because I think you’re worth it. ”

Newt forced a small tug on the corners of his lips. “You really mean that?”

“Of course.” Minho finally pulled him in a hug he’d rejected earlier. “No kids.”

“No kids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally! i decided to expand this to three chapter thus far instead of two, and this chapter might be very boring, kind of a filler, but some of the details are p important. so i hope you enjoy, and would wait for the next chapter. thanks for reading <3


	3. the only ones who know

 

 

 _in a foreign place, the saving grace was the feeling_  
that it was her heart that he was stealing  
oh, he was ready to impress and the fierce excitement  
the eyes are bright, he couldn't wait to get away  
and i bet that juliet was just the icing on the cake  
make no mistake, no

 

 

 

**xxxv | somebody could have shown you**

Newt was just closing up another patient.

Same shit, different day. Some say his line of work requires creativity and imagination, and he thought right then those people can suck his junk.

Creativity my ass, he thought.

His only reward at the end of his 48 hours shift was a good old anniversary dinner at home with his boyfriend.

20 years now. Practically married, if only they could.

Newt sighed, nodding as his colleagues comes in for their shift, clocking out on the way.

20 years.

\--

“I’m amazed that you’re not dead by now.”

“I’ve been doing back to back shifts since med school days, Minho, I think I’ll be fine.”

“Except for your severely chapped lips and those Prada bags under your eyes, sure.”

“The more you talk, the more my head hurts.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Gone were the days of them cooking instant ramen and heating frozen pizza in their college dorm and their old apartment. They took some fancy cooking classes--nothing a power couple of lawyer and doctor can’t afford--and surprisingly Minho turned out to be a better cook than Newt.

Newt’s just grateful he didn’t ever have to think about dinner when he worked overtime. Or did one of those back-to-back shifts. He came home to an Italian dinner this time, with candles, decades old wine, even some rose petals to match their drink. His boyfriend had always been the over-the-top one, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, soulmate thing aside.

Mid-slurping a forkful of Minho’s pomodoro spaghetti, Newt’s doe eyes looked up to his boyfriend of 20 years, youthful as ever.

“Hmmpy Annvrsry.” he mumbled through pasta stuffed mouth, corners of lips blotched with fresh tomato sauce.

“Happy Anniversary, Newt.”

There was a certain change in the air hanging around them–it felt like for a moment they were swimming in a thick pool of soup. Momentary freeze hung around Minho’s words.. As if he was hesitant about something.

Minho didn’t think Newt would catch that, or think that there’s anything to catch for that matter. A matter that disappeared in his head just as quickly as it appeared, rendering him off focus.

Newt did, though, as a force of habit.

But like a good boyfriend that he’s been for decades, he swallowed. First his question, along with the spaghetti, then other liquids later. Water, wine.. You know the rest.

Lucky he was running on an hour of sleep, so one round of sex sent him straight to REM sleep.

Minho heaved a sigh, putting blanket over him and his boyfriend’s bodies.

Minho too, felt lucky.

 --

Tamara was Newt’s most favorite person to spend his off day with at the time. Not sure about now, but back when she was his cute 9 year old niece, she was. He even liked getting ice cream with her better than with Minho.

“I’m not a little girl, you know.” she said, five seconds after licking melted chocolate ice cream off the back of her hand.

“That how your mother taught you to speak to your uncle, hey, Tammy?”

Her pigtails swayed side to side with her shaking head. Eyes as blue as her mother’s–and his own, hair dark as ebony, cheeks round and pink–a lot like her mother when she was her age. But the cheekiness? The curiosity? Short attention span? Her father’s.

“Mommy told me you helped her give birth to me. Why don’t you become pregnant woman doctor now?”

Newt scooped a heaping spoon of his mint chocolate chip ice cream, melted it in his mouth, and answered. “The only girl I like talking to is you, Tammy. Sometimes your mom, but it’s safer to say it’s only you.”

“So?”

“So.. Only women get pregnant, and I prefer not to deal with so many of them.”

She drifted off to another topic, more like a monologue this time, allowing Newt to savor his cup of frozen flavored sugar and cream in some sort of peace.

Tamara fascinated him.

The striking resemblance of her looks with her mother, how her personality is literally the blueprint of his father’s. How Thomas and Teresa exists in the 9-year old without question, at least not to anyone who knows the happily married pair, without a doubt. She’s their child. An exact 50:50 blend of their genes.

Beautiful like Teresa. Curious like Thomas.

After Newt dropped Tamara at her parents’, he wondered some more throughout the drive home.

If.

 _If_ ,

Minho and him were to have a kid.

Will they- Will they look half Korean? Or just, Korean? Or white? Images of Newt and Minho’s baby pictures juxtaposing in his head, side by side, trying to imagine what he’d get had the two overlapped.

_God damn it, now I want kids._

(No, he didn’t. _Doesn’t_.)

They’d probably be sarcastic and relentless with it. Headstrong, without a doubt, God, let’s not think about the terrible side. Loyal, maybe?

Depends.

On whether they have more Newt or Minho.

There was a time when Newt thought loyalty was Minho’s strongest suit. Didn’t think it would change after 25 years of knowing each other.

He was just taking out the trash.

It was his turn to, after 48 hours shift, and it was his off day after all. This was a simple mundane task that took one hell of a turn when he found an empty box of black hair dye in the bag from their bathroom.

He could be jumping into conclusions, but he couldn’t find a reason for a man with naturally jet-black hair to color his hair, well, black.

Newt couldn’t let that go, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Minho when he came home from work. Even when the uncomfortable hesitation was there again in Minho’s voice, barely, but there, palpable to his sharpened senses. The words had lurched to his throat, curled his tongue, but his lips sealed them all in.

Minho’s lips were, too, a great aid to the cause. Kissing the same person for twenty years could be considered nightmarish to some people, especially with all things considered: that none of them had to. That either of them had equal rights to seek for their respective soulmate and eventually part ways and grow old with them. And Newt? Newt hates the idea of growing old together.

Why grow old together when you can stay young forever? Minho’s skin hadn’t aged a day since he was eighteen, it’s still in its smooth olive glory, covering the curvature of his muscles taut, and right then, was brushing against his own pale one. It didn’t matter how many times he smiled, the crow feet wrinkles never appeared on the corners of his eyes.

_Why, why, would anyone want to ruin that?_

“I’m going to fuck you.”

Minho was being bossy, his authoritative lawyer kind of bossy, pushing Newt down to their bed. Clothes were long gone at that point, and Newt kept palming himself, in case the echoing voice in his head decided to interrupt what was supposed to be rounds and rounds of fiery 20 years anniversary sex of a couple that was stuck in their 18 year old bodies.

_Are you cheating on me?_

The timing was pretty perfect, actually. Newt didn’t have the energy to bark and bite. All he could think of was that box of hair dye. Minho blowing his cock didn’t even distract him from the thought; he managed some fake moans, focused on some 5 minutes of the blowjob, came, then drown in the thoughts again.

_Are you cheating on me?_

Minutes of Minho fucking Newt senseless had passed, and Newt still couldn’t find it in him to focus on his utterly hot boyfriend panting and moaning on top of him. He buried his teeth in his lover’s shoulder in an attempt of meeting him in the middle. The angle it created works, and Newt swirled into the hot syrupy air of sex, ill thoughts faded momentarily throughout his own orgasm, and Minho’s.

Minho covered them in blankets as usual and kissed Newt goodnight. A routine they both have done for a decade now. Minho’s arms were warm and his lips were eager. It didn’t add up to the low, somber echo of his own voice in his head that was lulling him to sleep, ignoring the burn in his throat where the words stopped.

_Are you cheating on me?_

_Are you cheating on-_

__Are you cheating-_  
_

___Are you-_  
_ _

\--

“You sure you don’t wanna join in on the game?” Newt thought one can only ask so much. Again, he was wrong.

“I changed my mind, Jeff. I’m in.”

“What gives? After, what, five years of being a fucking bore?”

“I need a distraction.”

“Alright. I’m in charge of this round, we’ll meet up just outside the ER and I’ll give out the tasks then. It’s your first, so you get the B cards.” Jeff smiled as he clocked out. “You’re excellent at this, Newt. Don’t disappoint.”

A smirk played briefly on his lips. “I won’t, buddy.”

This was exactly the kind of distraction he needed.

 

\-- 

 

_and even if somebody could have shown you the place you wanted_  
well i'm sure you could have made it that bit better on your own  
**you are the only ones who know**

_(arctic monkeys - only ones who know)_


End file.
